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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24159154">The Magnus Archives Alternate Universe - An Archivist Sasha James Anthology</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/piningmck/pseuds/piningmck'>piningmck</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Angst, Anthology, Archivist Sasha James, Elias Bouchard Being a Bastard, Graphic Description, Jon in the Buried, Lonely Avatar Martin Blackwood, Lonely!Martin, Multi, Not!Tim, Suicidal Thoughts, Web Avatar Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Web!Jonathan, did i mention i adore that elias tag, more jurgen leitner pipe death (for the soul)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:29:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,213</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24159154</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/piningmck/pseuds/piningmck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate universe where Sasha is Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute. This Anthology shows bits and pieces of that reality in a disconnected, but linear format.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>102</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. AU Introduction + basic info</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hello, welcome to the Archivist Sasha au i have very delicately planned out. This contains a lot of changes to canon, including the switching around of roles, but there's still stuff that stays the same!</p><p> </p><p>Things to expect: </p><p>- Archivist Sasha<br/>- Jon as an avatar for the Web<br/>- Jon getting trapped in the Coffin<br/>- Martin as a more powerful Lonely avatar<br/>- Not!Tim... but as an ally(?)<br/>- Sasha not breaking the Web Table out of paranoia<br/>- Sasha being able to actually do things because she doesn't spend time pissing off things that want to kill her<br/>- Daisy but she doesn't get better because of the Buried (F in the chat)<br/>- A Gertrude Robinson parallel eventually</p><p> </p><p>Things that stayed relatively the same:</p><p>- Basira being the one with the braincells<br/>- Melanie King, but she and Sasha actually get along well because Sasha's not an asshole (fuck you jarchivist *kisses his cheek*)<br/>- JonMartin (but it happens sooner)<br/>- Bastard Bouchard, being himself</p><p> </p><p>The anthology's not all complete on my end, but I'll post the chapters I do have right now!</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A congratulatory party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sasha just got a promotion! Cheers to competency and Elias not being afraid of powerful women #girlpower</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Shh! Shh!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am shushed! You shhh!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You guys, she’s coming!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The door to Sasha James’ new office opens, and the lights turn on. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Surprise!” The voices of Tim Stoker, Martin K. Blackwood, and Jonathan Sims (less enthusiastically) shout, to the shock of Sasha. A cake and a few bottles of wine were sitting on her desk, and the room was decorated with corner store party supplies. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Awww, you guyss~!” Sasha couldn’t hold in her joy. “What’s all this for?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>duuuhh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to celebrate the new position!” Tim exclaimed, beginning to pour out the wine into plastic champagne glasses for the four of them, and handing them out to the others. “You’re our official boss now, and there’s no one more suited for the job.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Congratulations!” Martin said, equally as excited. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I look forward to seeing this place cleaned up, considering the state the last head archivist left it in,” Jon said with clear scorn for Gertrude Robinson, to the amusement of the others. “Speaking of the state of things, are you seriously going to be using those tapes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>, right?” Sasha replied. “They’re the only thing that seems to work. I tried recording a statement on my laptop, but it came out corrupted.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>archaic</span>
  </em>
  <span>, though. I don’t have much experience in tech, but I’ve at least seen </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> recording equipment.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, point me in the direction of some when you can, but for now, we forget about the state of things,” Sasha said, lifting her fake glass up for a toast.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Cheers!” The others replied. The door opened again, to the shock of everyone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Already started without me?” Elias said, popping in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ayy, double boss!” Tim said, cheerily pouring Elias a cup. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard there was cake. Congratulations on the position, Sasha. I couldn’t think of a better person for it.” Elias held out a hand to shake.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Sasha said whole-heartedly shaking his hand. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Banter between archival assistants</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jon and Martin kind of get along after spending more time with each other on the same employee level.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Good God, I can’t take much more of this,” Jon sighed agonizingly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You getting carpal tunnel too?” Martin said, shaking his wrists sympathetically. They had been stapling loose statements together for 3 hours by now. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just can’t believe that old woman left the archives in this state. What was she trying to accomplish? Didn’t she have assistants?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, be nicer to her, Jon,” Martin said. “The poor woman’s gone missing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably ran from a statement giver she pissed off. Have you heard one of her tapes before? Sounded as cold as my grandmother.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can stand to listen to those things? I can hardly get through some of the written statements,” Martin shivered. “Some of them are </span>
  <em>
    <span>creepy</span>
  </em>
  <span> creepy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And most of them are probably fake, remember?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh come on, you know what I’m talking about. Tim said he saw you hyperventilating after reading one for research.” Jon flushed and stuttered a non-response. “See? Those things are creepy. Especially the ones with the Leitners.” Jon felt himself go cold at the mention of that name. He always felt that way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“... Right. Leitner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Jon?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” Jon shook his head, trying to get back into the mood. “Right! Right, sorry. Yeah, the Leitner ones are grim.” Martin, not so competent in his work, but still perceptive, picked up the change in atmosphere. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jooooon?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“... Yeeeees?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you…. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Read</span>
  </em>
  <span> a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Leitner</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Jon froze. Martin noticed, and dropped the stapler onto the shelf he was standing in front of. “Fuck off, really?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No! I didn’t- I never said I-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I should get Sasha, you should make a statement-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>,”Jon said, latching onto Martin, who was trying to walk away. “I-It was a long time ago! Seriously, it’s not a big deal,” Martin slowed, having been joking. Jon sighed in relief. “Besides, there’s not even much to say. Certainly nothing this institute needs to know about.” Martin nodded. An awkward pause. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that why you joined?” Martin asked with a curious grin. Jon didn’t answer, but the answer was clear on his face. “Well, if there’s ever a time you need a conversation starter, a Leitner will do just perfectly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span>“Sure. Now, please. Let’s get back to </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> mess.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The suspicions of Melanie King</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sasha and Melanie, as friends. :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I can walk you out,” Sasha smiled. Melanie smiled back. They had such pleasant conversations, unlike with that asshole assistant </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jon</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, lead the way,” Melanie joked. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They had a nice conversation, and ran into Tim along the way. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sasha,” he nodded, with a joking seriousness. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tim,” Sasha laughed as they walked past each other. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tim? What, is this place collecting them?” Melane joked. Sasha looked at her strangely.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tim,” Melanie pointed behind her. “There was another one I met when I was here before. You know, short black hair, glasses, definitely not as tall?” </span>
  <span></span>
    <br/>
  
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Uuhhh, no? No, we’ve only had one Tim, I think. That’s him.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I mean, I think so. I’ve never seen another Tim around here. You sure he wasn’t in a different department?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm,” Melanie thought. And then shrugged. No point in getting into an argument for something the both of them can’t confirm. “Maybe. Weird coincidence though.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lot’s of those here,” Sasha said, and they both laughed. Melanie left without incident. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Meanwhile, “Tim” had overheard everything. And so had Elias. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tim! Could you step into my office, please?” Elias gave a knowing smile as he held the door open for him. Elias locked the door behind him, and moved to a compartment in his desk, pulling out a bottle of whiskey, and pouring the both of them a glass.. “I hope you don’t mind.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not at all,” Tim replied, taking the glass. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, Tim. Can I call you Tim? Do you prefer a different name? Not-Tim? I heard you were called the “NotThem” in some circles.” the NotThem paused, and then smiled. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How long have you known?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>whole</span>
  </em>
  <span> time. I don’t mean to brag, but, I’m a very good actor. I could probably do well among your kind. God knows I’ve switched bodies long enough to become a stranger myself,” Elias said, downing the whiskey in his cup. “So, the NotThem is fine?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“More than fine,” it said, growing taller, stretching itself into something more like it’s actual form. Elias laughed, to its disappointment. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What, is that supposed to scare me? You’re lucky you weren’t around for the last archivist. Gertrude Robinson,” Elias shook his head. “Now she was a force. Had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> her.” It shrunk back down into “Tim”. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what do you want? To rat me out?” Elias fake gasped. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not! You’re a dear member of our archival staff, I couldn’t dream of having your ruse fall through. I actually have a proposition!” It cocked it’s head. “It’s quite interesting, if I do say so myself.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Go on…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“As you may know, Sasha is…. More competent in her job than I had hoped. Honestly, I should have hired Jon. Or Martin. Or even Tim. But, no. She’s making too much progress, cleaning up the mess Gertrude left behind. Progress I’m having unfortunate trouble keeping pace with. I’d like you to… Help me </span>
  <em>
    <span>catch up</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’ll let you know which statements or tapes to keep a special eye out for, and you bring them to me for safekeeping before she knows about them.” It slouched back, cocky. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah? What’s in it for me?” Elias smiled. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am so glad you asked. In exchange, you get my archivist. Your unknowing ritual is coming up fairly soon, correct?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s right,” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’ll make sure Sasha is right in the middle of it, free for the taking. As long as you can guarantee that she doesn’t live through it.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You want your archivist to die?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yessir! But please, wait until the ritual. You can kill her yourself, too. Do we have a deal?” Elias held his hand out. Unsure of the plan, but eager to scare, the NotThem shook it. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The murder of Jurgen Leitner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hold your stomachs on this one!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Elias, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it doesn’t have to be like this-” As the thwacks of the lead pipe cut through the air, piercing the old man’s skull, Sasha James’ scream sounded throughout the archive. Only one, however, as the horror of what she was witnessing seemed to close her throat shut. She covered her mouth, eyes wide, unable to run. Sitting in the chair across from the now dead Jurgen Leitner, slumped across her desk, whose head was still being beaten in. Every few hits, as the pipe landed deeper into his skull, more blood sprayed out into the room, onto Elias, and onto her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What, scared? Good. Now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tim</span>
  </em>
  <span> will run in here in five, four, three two,” For the last count, Elias unlocked the door and moved out of the way just as Tim burst through.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sasha! What- Oh my </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Elias rolled his eyes and Tim finally noticed his presence, and the pipe in his hand. Slowly, he backed behind the desk to Sasha. Internally, a part of Elias wanted to give a round of applause for the NotThem’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>outstanding</span>
  </em>
  <span> performance. The other part wanted to laugh out loud at this thing’s overdramatic attempt at pretending to care. Sasha believed it, and clung onto the still standing man, who held his hand on her head in a comforting fashion. “Sasha, what happened?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“H-He- He-” She could only stutter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“What’s it look like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tim</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I killed the person right before you, oooh, ahhh,” Elias finished flatly. “You’ll have to wait a moment before Jon and Martin get here. They got trapped in Michael. Quite embarrassing. Do you think he can hear me? Michael? Can you hear me?” Elias shouted into the air. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then a door appeared. Michael appeared in it’s frame. The high pitched static pierced the room, filling it with unease. “You called?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, could you let my staff out of your hallways? I’d let them stay with you longer, but we need to have an employee meeting, and it’s rather urgent.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm~... Alright~, fine~,” Michael said, waving his head side to side in a nonchalant, almost dreamy fashion. “Good to see you again, Archivist~ We should go out for coffee again, I liked our chat~” Tim held the defensive position, moving his hand from her head down to her shoulder. Michael seemed disappointed. He closed the door, and when it opened, the two archival assistants rushed through, screaming. A giant, spindly beast could be seen chasing after them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Christ! Christ! Fucking Christ!” Jon was yelling. “Close the door!” Martin was yelling incomprehensible sounds, slamming the door behind him, as it disappeared. They took a moment to catch their breaths before they noticed the smell of blood. “Oh, god what is that smell-” And then they noticed the rest of the room. It was dead silent, save for Martin’s gagging at the sight of the body. Jon held a hand over his mouth to keep from following suit. “What… What happened?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yoohoo!” Elias waved. “That would be me, Jon.” The two looked at the man, covered in sprayed blood, and holding the bloody pipe. They moved to the back of the room, closer to Sasha and Tim. “I’m so glad to see you’ve all joined me today. Now, there’s a lot I need to explain to you, so try your best to not waste our time by interrupting.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The aftermath of The Unknowing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A shift in Sasha's character. An offer from the entity known as the NotThem.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The books flung across the office did no damage to the NotThem. Sasha James was not throwing objects out of fear. At the moment, she was the most angry and sad she’d ever been in her life. Angry at this thing, this monster. The monster that took her best friend nearly two years ago, and pretended to be him. Angry at herself, so angry that she never even noticed. Angry that she had to be saved by this monster, led out of the wax museum. Sad for Tim. Sad for how he must have suffered, sad because she couldn’t even remember his real face. His real voice. Sad for Jon, who must have died alone and scared in that museum while everyone else was able to make it out. Sad for Martin, who had to hear the news. When Sasha had no more things to throw, she fell to her knees. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You should have </span>
  <em>
    <span>killed</span>
  </em>
  <span> me. You should have left me in there! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why?! </span>
  </em>
  <span>What could you have possibly gained from saving my life!?” She sobbed and screamed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sasha-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>
    <em>No</em>
  </b>
  <b>.</b>
  <span> No, don’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That’s </span>
  <b>
    <em>Archivist</em>
  </b>
  <span> to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Why did you pull the trigger on </span>
  <em>
    <span>your own ritual</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I.. Killing you was the plan, but.. We have a common enemy. Elias is up to something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s always up to something.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not what I mean. I meant he’s up to something bigger than stopping one ritual. In fact, he was the one who wanted you dead! More than me. Well, maybe not then. I just wasn’t thinking about it specifically, until he mentioned it.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>spared</span>
  </em>
  <span> my life to </span>
  <em>
    <span>spite</span>
  </em>
  <span> him?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A little bit, but also, I wanted to see why he wants you dead so badly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sasha slowly stood up, moving from the floor to her desk chair. “So then </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> the sabotage?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It shrugged. “I was curious. I got </span>
  <em>
    <span>bored </span>
  </em>
  <span>with doing the same thing for so long. So I decided that if this mystery didn’t bring up a satisfying ending, then there’ll always be next time.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Next time? Everyone in that museum was </span>
  <em>
    <span>destroyed</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Sasha said. She couldn’t believe her ears. This thing? Optimism? She wiped her tears. She was just angry now. “What, you want me to help you solve your little Elias mystery?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to help </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> solve the “little” Elias mystery. Maybe it’ll even give you some closure, or something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh go to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’m not helping you with</span>
  <em>
    <span> anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Leave my archive, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> come back. I don’t care who you kill on the outside.” That was a lie, she cared very much. But she was too pissed off to say anything else. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s the thing. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Physically, a little, but not forever. I’m trapped here, same as the rest of you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Trapped? By what?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It paused, and smiled. “I’m… Not telling you. I hate being stuck here as much as you do, but I want to make a deal.” Sasha stood. She was going to fucking kill this thing. “Let me help you, and then some time in the future, I’ll tell you how you can get me to leave.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And what if I just kill you?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d kill you first. Unlike you, I’m not above getting rid of Martin’s last friend in this place.” Sasha paused. Fuck. She sat back down. She put her head in her hands. She had to think this through. Weigh the pros. A potential ally? A supernatural one that couldn’t die normally, at that. If there was a bigger conspiracy like it said, then it’s willing to help. Plus, she could figure out a way to kill it and avenge Tim. Weigh the cons. What’s there to say? </span>
  <em>
    <span>It killed Tim</span>
  </em>
  <span>! It didn’t care enough to save Jon, and, oh yeah, it’s killed plenty of people </span>
  <em>
    <span>before</span>
  </em>
  <span> it came to the archives. It was a monster, through and through! </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>… So, it seemed like there were more pros. Sasha let out a deep, angry sigh. She would have to hold herself together, for the sake of Martin, Daisy, Basira, Melanie, and the rest of the institute that was in the dark about all of this. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she said through her gritted teeth, uncovering her face, and sitting upright. “But I’m telling everyone what you are, and I refuse to call you Tim, so you better pick a new name.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Deal, and I’m often called The NotThem.” She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> saying that a hundred times a day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Too much of a mouthful, you’re... “Nottam” now. Deal or die.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmmmm…. Yeah, fine,” Nottam shrugged. “A pleasure to be working with you, <em>Archivist</em>.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Martin K. Blackwood, regarding his relations to The Lonely</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sasha tries to talk to Martin.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Three months. Three months since The Unknowing. Three months since Jon’s funeral, three months since Tim’s memorial. Three months since the unlikely alliance between Archivist and Stranger. Three months since the institute went under new management by Peter Lukas, and three months since Sasha James saw any sign of her last friend, Martin Blackwood. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She remembered how he grieved. How he couldn’t stand to look at her, like she was the reason Jon didn’t make it out of there. He knew, of course. He knew it wasn’t fair to think like that, that it wasn’t her fault. Of course, she’d seen Martin K. Blackwood since. Business related things that needed to be passed on to Lukas. But it had been three months since she last saw her friend. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It had been a month since his change in position. He only flatly told her he was moving up to be Peter Lukas’ personal assistant. He was cold then, and he was even colder these days. He never smiled, never cracked any jokes. In fact, he hardly emoted at all. He only had a few things to remember Jon by. A picture they’d taken together when a carnival passed through London, clips of him in statement recordings, and a small lighter with a web design that Jon had left behind. The rest of Jon’s belongings from his flat were put into some storage facility only his (extremely) distant relatives had access to, so there was nothing to gain from there. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>From what Sasha was able to work out, Martin was most likely falling to the power of The Lonely. Coincidentally, the Lukas family had heavy ties with the same power. This </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> have been some kind of messed up scheme of Lukas’. And by God, was Sasha going to find some way to get her friend out of it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She had the fortunate opportunity to see him again fairly soon. A box of paperwork that needed to be passed on. She found his office. It was so… secluded. It seemed so much farther away from everywhere else. Maybe that was the point. She knocked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s Sasha,” she said. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s open,” she could hear Martin from inside. She opened the door as best she could with no available hands. Martin didn’t look up from his computer. “Over there, thanks,” he pointed to the side of the room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I brought tea,” Sasha replied, setting the box down, and then placing the cup on his desk. He paused, and looked over. His brow slightly furrowed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“... Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A pause. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?” Sasha asked. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Martin shrugged. Sasha could feel a mist in the air. Might as well go for it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right. Fine. Is that because you’ve gotten proper help, or is it because you’ve been claimed by The Lonely?” Martin gave a wry chuckle, leaning back in his chair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You found out?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t exactly subtle.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, so? What’s your point, then? Yes, I’m working for The Lonely. Same way you work for the Beholding. It’s not a big deal.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not a big deal? Martin, that man is </span>
  <em>
    <span>up to something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You think your job “promotion” was a lucky break?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>dense</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sasha.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Well, you could have fooled </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. What’s the point in all of this, Martin? I’ve read the statements, you researched them; we both know what the Lonely is like.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, we do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re just letting it take you over?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But </span>
  <em>
    <span>why?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Because it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>easy</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Martin held his head as the compulsion took him over, standing up. “God, Sasha, cut that out!” Sasha calmed herself down. That was only partially an accident. She still wanted to know. Martin sighed. “You know my mum died? Last month. I didn’t tell you, because it was none of your business, but yeah, she died.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Martin, I’m so-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>, don’t. The funny part about it is that she hated me. I knew she hated me, and I knew why. But it still hurt </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much</span>
  </em>
  <span> to lose her. I didn’t even want to live anymore. The night after the funeral I- I tried to…” He shook his head, covering his mouth for a moment. “Tea and a whole bunch of sleeping pills. That was the plan. I couldn’t go through with it, of course. Too much of a coward.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then Peter offered me this job. He gave me some time to research, of course. I found all the statements about him and the Lonely. I decided ‘what the hell?’ It couldn’t hurt to try. Feeling nothing is a whole lot better than feeling like I’d lost the two most important people in my life. Maybe it would even get me killed in the end.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s… You could have just gotten a grief counselor, Martin. This isn’t helping-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Helping? You want me to get help?” Sasha could hear the cracks in his voice. The rising anger. “Alright then, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you first</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You lost Tim, right? You loved him </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> much. But you’re distracting yourself with work </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> like everyone else here. I-In</span>
  <em>
    <span> fact</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he laughed. “If you can convince Daisy </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> Melanie to get some anger management counselling of their own, I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>gladly</span>
  </em>
  <span> seek out a professional. Because god knows we’re all falling apart!” Silence, as he caught his breath, and forced back the tears prickling his eyes. “But who would believe us? Even a fraction of the things we’ve seen, the things we’ve done, the things we’ve been put through, it’s enough to get us sent to a goddamned psychiatric hospital. So unless you have a convincing lie that can still get help, we’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>stuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Martin-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, leave. Thank you for the tea.” Martin sat back down, putting his head in his hands. Sasha closed the door behind her, grateful to have seen a glimpse of her old friend again.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Reminiscing about the late Jonathan Sims</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Statements taken directly from subjects, over some cheap beer.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Cheers,” everyone said, downing their drinks. Filling the seats around the circular table in the bar were ones Sasha James, Basira Hussain, Daisy Tonner, Melanie King, and the guest appearance of Gerogie Barker, the close friend of Melanie.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nice to get out of there for once,” Sasha sighed, to the unanimous agreement of the others. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a shame Martin couldn’t come,” Georgie said, sipping her beer. The table was silent. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah...” Sasha felt guilty. She knew he had refused the offer, but she felt like she wasn’t trying hard enough to help him. He was already almost a fully realized avatar. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not a shame to me” Melanie scoffed. “I tried passing on some files to him the other day? Took ten minutes and a slap to the face to get him to snap out of whatever.. Trance he put himself in. Then he got mad at </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> for doing it! I told him I’d tried to shake him, but he didn’t care. He used to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice</span>
  </em>
  <span> person. Gave me a cup of tea when I gave my first statement.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s dealing with a lot right now,” Sasha interjected. “The Lonely, it’s... It’s messing with his head, just like how the entities mess with all of us.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> trying to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span>, though.” Melanie grumbled. Point taken. “How are you feeling, Daisy? The classes working out for you?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Classes?” Sasha mused. Daisy seemed embarrassed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh- I’ve been... I’ve been doing some yoga, lately. Got off easy with the arrest, figured it wouldn’t hurt to... Mellow,” she gritted her teeth. “It was supposed to be a secret.” Melanie mouthed a sincere apology. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s... Really cool of you. Both of you.” She ought to tell Martin. Maybe he’d finally agree to see a counsellor, like he said those four months ago. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Georgie, I hear you knew Jon back in the day?” The air turned sadder as Basira mentioned the late assistant’s name. Gerogie sighed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I knew him alright. Dated,” she jokingly grimaced. “Didn’t end so well. No idea you’d end up working with him, Mels.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Me neither. Guy’s a prick!” The table laughed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Have some respect for the man,” Basira said. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you know I’m right! He was all grumps and grouches, acted like everyone was incompetant, even though </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> could hardly do more than organize papers. Aren’t I right Sasha?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Sasha didn’t want to agree, that was disrespectful! “I guess he had an air to him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What was he like before we started working here? When it was just the “og archival team”?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, what the hell. Talking about him in any sense made it hurt a little less. “Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I remember when he came in for his interview with Elias. I bumped into him. He was nervous as all hell, and actually pretty optimistic! Oh, but you should have seen the way he reacted to the archives the first ten times. Loose papers everywhere, no organization, first day on the team, and I hear the loudest “Ugh!” come right out of his mouth!” The table laughed. “H-he was furious! I think the legacy of Gertrude Robinson aged him 10 years, and he wasn’t even the head archivist!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds so much like him,” Georgie laughed. “When we were in college, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> messes. I thought it might have been OCD, but no, he was just so used to having things organized. You should have </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> his book collections.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He had a book collection?” Melanie asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah! And the weirdest thing was that he almost never had two books by the same author. Said he didn’t like repetitive things. He also liked to show off how many books he’d read whenever we’d visit shops for anything new.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now that you mention it, I think I did use to see him read a lot of books during lunch breaks,” Sasha interrupted. “Never saw him with the same book twice, though.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, book shmook,” Daisy teased. “Let’s get to the juicy bit, what made you two break up?” Everyone nodded in agreement at Georgie, who leaned back in her chair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, the book thing was part of it. Well, not the book itself, but the selection of them. He always got </span>
  <em>
    <span>bored</span>
  </em>
  <span> too easily. Always needed something </span>
  <em>
    <span>new</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do. Bit of a control freak, actually. Did he ever seem like things always </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go one way?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thinking about it, yeah,” Sasha sighed. “I just thought he was passionate about reorganizing the archives, but you wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>believe</span>
  </em>
  <span> the complaints I got from Tim after Jon would insist statement research had to go some way or another. Even </span>
  <em>
    <span>Martin</span>
  </em>
  <span> got tired of it now and then.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and he didn’t stop. Like I said, prick.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sasha gave a wry laugh. “Yeah...” Silence at the table. “He did have his good sides, though. Loved to infodump random things he learned, even used to talk about the books he read. And he always did it with this... Shine in his eyes. Made him actually look his age.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah! Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> he look so old? How on earth do you get greys in your twenties?” Melanie joked, and the others laughed along.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Same way he ended up being miserable most of the time; The Leitner he encountered when he was eight,” Sasha said, her laugh stopping as she realized she didn’t know that information before. “Woah, I-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yikes,” Basira said. No one seemed to had noticed yet. “Did he make a statement about that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I-... No, sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to- It was the-” Sasha looked down at her drink. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Daisy shrugged. “Not like he’s here to be mad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Daisy</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” the others hushed her. Sasha stayed silent. She thought about it a little more as everyone else tried to set the mood again. Jonathan Sims, and his encounter with a Leitner collectable, titled as A Guest For Mr. Spider. Reading the book nearly killed him, but he was saved by a bully who stole the book from him, and read it himself, ultimately leading him to The Spider. It traumatized the then eight year old Jon, and he was afraid of spiders since. It was funny, considering Martin’s interest in spiders. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Archivist in the Buried</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Archivist travels into the Buried after it's coffin was delivered to the institute.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“It’s… It’s getting hard to breathe down here. And move. Pathway’s turned into a tunnel.” Sasha crawled her way through the buried, looking for any sign of Jon. She had his voice. She had his face. She could feel him, she knew she was heading in the right direction. But in this place… She was starting to feel doubtful. She knew that’s what the coffin was supposed to be doing. Making you afraid. But still. She was new to this. She had spent months chasing nothing leads, trying to pick up the pieces of the archives under new management she hadn’t even met, trying to find answers to </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And she only barely developed her powers beyond… Compulsion. What if she messed this up? She realized the Buried doesn’t kill its victims, but Jon’s been in here for eight months. If she were to even find him… What if she couldn’t save his mind? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing yet,” she said into her tape recorder. “This tunnel’s getting smaller. I shouldn’t be here for long. There are… Limbs, sticking out of the walls. I can hear them crying out-I, I can’t imagine what agony they must be in-aAH!” Sasha had backed into a hand. She had to calm herself down quickly. Don’t let this place get to her. She shone the light on it. “It's an arm,” she said to the recorder. She found it easier to think when describing things out loud. “Out of the dirt past the elbow. The hand long, incredibly bony, I think male. Brown, it seems, though incredibly dirty. And-” she finally noticed, “There’s a lot of small spiders. Very small, but a lot of them. They might be what made the cobweb inside of the door…” She set town her torch, and reached her hand out. Please, oh god, please. She touched the hand. It was limp for only a moment, before it started shaking, and the fingers began to twitch. “... Jon? Is that you?” It interlocked it’s fingers with hers. Not a confirmation, but it was a step. “Jon, I need some proof that it’s you,” she said, a little more loudly. Maybe he didn’t hear her through all the dirt. “It’s me, Sasha. Yell if you recognize my name.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Silence for a moment. And then the panic arose as the voice of the arm, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jon’s voice</span>
  </em>
  <span>, began to scream. It was muffled, it was muted, but by god, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Sasha almost started crying tears of joy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I-It’s okay, Jon! I’m going to get you out of there! I’m going to start digging, I need you to try and show me where your face is, Jon.” Frantically, the arm began to flail and pat the dirt. Hopefully, that was the right direction. Sasha had to be careful about how she dug. The dirt could suck her in with Jon just as easily. She moved quickly, and the dirt, which was, somehow, incredibly dense, fell away bit by bit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jon took a deep breath as his mouth was finally uncovered. “S-S-Sasha, Sa-sha,” he cried. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m here, Jon,” Sasha gave a choked smile, even if he couldn’t see her. She went to his shoulders next. If the top half of him was this close to the tunnel walls, then if she dug him out enough, she could essentially pull him out without having to uncover his legs. “Jon, what position are your legs in?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“... I- I- I, up! Up, I-I think.” Perfect. It took a while, and several times shaking off the small spiders that were crawling up and down her arms, but Sasha was finally able to uncover most of Jon’s torso. Why wasn’t the Buried giving her trouble? She didn’t have time to think about it. Jon fell forward, palming at the dirt keeping his lower half trapped, but it didn’t amount to much. Sasha uncovered his other arm. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to pull you out,” she said. “I honestly don’t know if it’ll work.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I-I-It’s okay,” he stuttered. “It’s worth a-a shot.” And with that, Sasha curled her arms around Jon’s back, pulling as hard as she could, thinking of every way she could use gravity to her advantage. And thank god these places had gravity. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Push!” She struggled. Jon let out a pained groan in response, but surely, with their efforts combined, Jon fell through the space dug out for him, and landed on Sasha in an embrace. They curled together in the cramped tunnel, a bit of laughing, mostly relieved crying, no words able to be said. Finally, they sat up as much as they could, giving each other some space.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We thought you were gone, o-obliterated in the explosion.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ohhh, t-that would’ve been nice,” he sighed. He was clutching his right leg.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve got spiders on you,” Sasha noticed. Jon didn’t seem too phased. “I thought you hated them.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe,” he said. “I might when I get back but… They’re comforting here.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you like to make a statement?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-yeah, sure. I- Um… I’m not s-sure where to start.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How about how you got here?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“R-right. The-uh, the delivery men. Breekon and Hope. When we all got separated, they- they found me. Threw me in, but I-I-I grabbed onto one. He fell with me. Lots of stairs, I-I broke my leg.” Ah, that explained it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t look broken,” she replied. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“N-no, it’s not anymore. The uh.. The spiders fixed it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The spiders?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think they’re the special ones. F-for the Web,” Jon said, rolling up his pant leg to reveal the white silk stitching just below the knee. “Hurt like hell, but they did it, somehow.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would the Web help you?” Jon looked at her. She already knew, though. “You were already affiliated… And you didn’t tell me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>private</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jon said in a hushed voice. “A-and frankly, traumatic. Have you ever watched a boy die at 8 years old because of a Leitner? B-because I have.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, I’m sorry. Continue.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“R-Right. I didn’t see him again, and it took awhile for the spiders to get here. I-I don’t know how long I was trapped before they came.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not how I expected to find you, to be honest.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I-... This place, it doesn't exactly make you feel... sane.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-you’d think that, but. No, i-it actually... It relies on you staying sane. Aware, I-I guess. I was able to dig my way out of some of the tr-traps, only to get caught in another landslide. I-I think it gives you hope. It knows when to stop torturing you, i-it doesn’t kill you no ma-tter h-how long you’ve gone without water.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Christ...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah...” Silence, for a short while, only filled with heavy, stuttered breathing. “Sasha?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah Jon?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How is everyone? How’s home?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Home is.... It’s a struggle. Everyone else made it out of the Unknowing, but, it’s been hard.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m sure Tim and Martin have f-found a way to cheer things up, ha ha...” Sasha didn’t laugh. “What’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tim, he... He died, Jon. D-during the Prentiss attack. Right up to the Unknowing, he w-was replaced by the NotThem. Melanie realized, but, she was lied to by Elias, who knew the whole time.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“.... Fuck... You can’t be serious...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wish I-I wasn’t.” Sasha felt like she could cry again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you kill it? In the ritual?” She shook her head. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It saved my life, brought me out of there before lighting the museum up itself. Said Elias w-was up to something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean... It’s still in the institute?” Sasha nodded. “Sasha, sorry to say, but that it the stupi-” Jon was stopped by a coughing fit, brought on by how quick he was trying to cough.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Easy, Jon. I know. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But I think we’re almost there, I know we are.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“W-hat are you even calling it? Don’t tell me it’s T-Tim.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“God no, not anymore. Nottam.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“... Nottam.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“E-easier to say than “The Not-Them”, and it had no place to argue with me on it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“R-right... What about Martin? Is he okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I don’t think he is.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Wh-what happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Jon, losing you, it-.. It hit him the hardest. He cared about you so much, loved you-, a-and after his mum died-” She tried to gather her words for the worried Jon. “Elias went to jail, and Peter Lukas took his place. H-He hired Martin to work for him, and it’s turning Martin into an avatar of The Lonely. It’s only gotten worse, b-but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> there’s still a part of him left in there. Even when he just gets angry, or sad, it’s a sign he’s still </span>
  <em>
    <span>feeling</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wh-... H-how do we help him?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I... I was hoping seeing you again would.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“O-oh,” Jon blushed. “I-I don’t know, I... I wasn’t exactly nice to him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And yet,” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“... Yeah...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The walls of the tunnel began to rumble. Loose dirt flaked off the ceiling. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We need to go,” Sasha grabbed Jon’s hand. “Don’t slow down.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Running and stumbling ensued as the two bolted towards the direction the tunnel widened in, Sasha didn’t even slow to think about how she couldn’t feel her anchor. She had to pull most of Jon’s weight, who was coughing while screaming, and pleading that he was too injured to keep going. But they finally made it to a clearing as the cave collapsed behind them. Despite being the way Sasha had crawled in from, it didn’t look the same. It was suddenly a steep hill, a very snowy, steep hill. One that Sasha quickly realized was a perfect invitation for an avalanche. She motioned to Jon to stay quiet, and he covered his mouth as he breathed as though he was about to start choking. Jon could also barely walk, so they had to traverse down the mountain on their rears. Sasha focused as hard as she could to feel her anchor, the rib she was missing. And she could, almost. But it was so faint a feeling, she didn’t know what direction it was coming from. The despair was sinking in. She stopped as he moved down beside her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I-I’m sorry, Jon.” She tried to cry silently as she whispered. “I-I thought I was strong enough to find the way out, but. I think we’re too far down. Somewhere inescapable.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jon’s grip on her hand tightened. “B-but... At least we aren’t alone,” he whispered. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The hill seemed to go down forever, and it was most likely another 3 hours before Sasha’s signal became suddenly stronger. She shook Jon’s hand. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I- I - Feel it, Jon. I can see where it is, the exit- I-” She almost got too excited. She felt the rumble of the mountain, and fell silent. She concentrated. It was miles to their left. She nodded at Jon to start crawling in that direction. They could both tell when they were getting closer thanks to the increase in spider activity, and before long, they had finally reached the steps. They bolted, as fast as Sasha could pull most of Jon’s weight, all the way to the top of the stairs, the entrance to the coffin right above them. Sasha put all her weight against the heavy door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Push!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I- I- T-Trying...!!” He could only stutter as he tried to support himself on one good leg. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then the coffin door opened, and Sasha hoisted herself up, swinging the door back the rest of the way. As she lifted Jon up to the edge, she realized what the anchor she could really feel was. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>About two dozen tape recorders, strewn across the floor, all playing at once. Different statements. And in the middle, on a table near the back of the room, sat Nottam, in the stretched out form it preferred these days, looking impressed, a little shocked, and possibly even a little relieved. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Holy shit. You really did it,” he exclaimed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What is all this?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Martin stopped by. Had a weird look in his eyes, I don’t think he was even aware of what he was doing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you tell him?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope,” it smiled. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He didn’t ask,” it smiled wider. Sasha rolled her eyes and let out a huff, finally lifting herself out of the coffin. Jon followed suit, slumping against the side of the coffin once he was finally on the floor.. “You look terrible. Both of you. You know how long you were in there for?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Sasha said, trying to catch her breath as she moved to turn off the tapes. It proved more difficult than she wanted to admit in front of Nottam. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Five days. Basira’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>pissed</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, she can be mad at me later, I still-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Five days,” Basira burst through the door. “I tell you it’s a bad idea to go in there as unprepared as you were, and it-... It....” Jon gave a weak wave as the rest of the room stared at Basira. “Oh my god. You did it.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t be back if I hadn’t,” Sasha smiled. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit... I’ll call an ambulance, then.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“W-woah, an ambulance?” Jon sputtered, trying to move to his knees. “No, n-no, I-I-I need to see Ma... Marti-...” It wasn't clear what the reason was. Maybe the lack of nutrients in his body caused a black out. Maybe the pain in his leg was too much to bear in the safety outside of the coffin. But while he was trying to stand, it was if those eight months hit Jon at full force, and he fell to the ground, unconscious. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A short time later, Martin K. Blackwood was becoming distracted due to the increasing noise from the hallways. He opened the door to see a gurney roll by, towards the direction of artifact storage. He had a vague memory of going down there earlier, but he couldn’t remember why. He walked down closer to the storage entrance, only for the gurney to burst through and roll past him again as he made room for it. He almost didn’t recognize the man strapped into it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Almost. His face fell with the realization. He ran after it, all the way to the door, watching as it loaded into the ambulance, and was driven away. Sasha joined his side. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“... Was that...?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Seemed like we were too quick to assume what “no body recovered” meant, huh?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But... How?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a long story. One I think he needs to tell you himself. Can you do me a favour, and help him out with recovery? He’ll need someone. He’s been alone for too long.” Martin sniffled, and tried to wipe away his tears, almost going foggy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I-I don’t think I’ll do a very good job,” he choked. “I think I'm too far gone.” Sasha gave a smile, put her hand on his shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it’ll be enough for him to know that you’d try.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Martin paused, and nodded. He covered his mouth, but a sincere “Thank you” still escaped. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Recovery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Archivist visits Jonathan Sims in recovery, and has a conversation with Martin K. Blackwood. (trigger warning for mention of suicidal thoughts!)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had almost been a month since Sasha got Jon out of the buried. Once finally awake in the hospital, Jon had explained to her that he believed the Buried kept most of the pain that would have come with the broken leg at bay, but it was escaping it that brought it back in a flash. With his poor health, he didn't stand a chance staying conscious. He spent a week in there getting properly fed and hydrated, and kept the nurses and doctors puzzled at the occasional spider that kept getting through the cracks. Jon's reappearance ended up making a headline, but once Daisy was able to mention the Section 31 nature of the case, the police worked hard at creating a cover story to tell the press. It was a simple and interesting story. Employee of the Magnus Institute, once assumed dead, was kidnapped and buried alive for eight months, kept alive by slop food and water being fed down a tube, assailants were not found at the scene and remain unknown. Even Jon was impressed by how believable it sounded. When Jon was finally released from the two weeks later, fitted with a cane for his leg and several ruthless guides and routines to get himself healthy, his plans to live with Martin were already in effect. There wasn't much that needed to be moved from the storage facility. Clothes, a few novels, a photobook of his late family, and a quilt his grandmother had made for him when he was younger. Everything else either stayed in storage, got put on a selling list, or just got donated. So, eventually, Sasha was finally able to get around to visiting. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Sasha!" Jon said merrily as she entered through the doorway. Except it was Martin who opened the door, and Jon didn't actually see her come in, as she Saw he was in the kitchen. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Hello Jon!" She shouted out. Quietly, she asked, "How did he...?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Spiders." Martin nodded to his left. Sure enough, there was a small spider dangling from the ceiling. "I'm not sure if he communicated telepathically or if he just sees through them."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Ah..." She wasn't sure what to say. It was expected Jon would develop abilities related to the entity he was touched by, just like herself and Martin. But... Spiders were gross. "And you're alright with that?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I don't mind it," he shrugged awkwardly. He minded it a little. "Though I think I've held a duster more than a pen this past week. Oh, right, right! Come in!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Martin's flat was very homey, save for the makeshift office space in the corner by a window. He'd finally been able to convince Peter he could work from home, and had been spending lost time with Jon. He said it was to help him settle in and recover easier, but no one really believed that was the whole reason. Other than the nice scenery, the smell coming from the kitchen was amazing. Sasha took a large whiff of it. "What's cooking, Jon?" She yelled over. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Mućkalica!" He yelled back. The name was foreign to her. Taking off an apron, Jon limped out of the kitchen. "You're not vegan, are you?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No, I'm good. Should you be walking without your cane?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh, it's fine," he scoffed. "The medication helps wonders. Anyways, it's good to see you!" They hugged. "What brings you?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Just wanted to check in on you two. You've gotten taller! And you seem... Bouncy." Jon smiled. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I think the first one's the Web, and the second... Well, I've just been taking in what I've missed. The recipe is actually my Nana's, I forgot I even <em>had</em> her cookbook, but there it was in storage, so I've been trying to get Martin into " Sasha was drawn to the beanie on his head while he was talking. The strange thing about it was that he was wearing a t-shirt. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Are you cold, Jon?" He looked confused, until she nodded towards the hat. Jon got flustered and sad, and Martin started to snicker. "What?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You should show her," Martin said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Right... So it's a little embarrassing, but you know, ever since I got out, something in me was telling me that I shouldn't go to a hairdresser. It might have actually been the spiders, but that's besides the point. But spiders kept crawling around in my hair while it was long, and it was itchy, so I got fed up and buzzed it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Except," Martin mused. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"<em>Except</em>," Jon continued. "Whatever the Web has turned me into..." He reached up, and pulled off the beanie. Sasha gasped. "Decided my hair was a part of the equation," he finished sadly. It was longer than one would have expected to fit in that beanie, but instead of dark, curly locks that were tinged with grey, Jon's hair fell flat, straight, and pure white. He sadly brushed back the near forming bangs. "I doubt Annabelle Cane had to deal with this. It grows in so much faster, too. This was all after <em>last week</em>."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"He cried for ten minutes straight," Martin said, pulling out his phone. "I recorded some of it. Want to see?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Ooooh, I kind of do," Sasha said, apologetic towards Jon. He sighed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You two have fun, I'll get back to the kitchen." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"We'll step out," Martin said. Jon nodded, and limped back into the kitchen. Outside of the apartment building, Martin took out a pack of cigarettes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"When did you start smoking?" Sasha asked. Martin just shrugged.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"A few months, I guess. Want one?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No thanks." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"'Kay." Silence. "You're wondering why?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yeah," Sasha replied. "Is that alright?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Not really, but I guess not sharing has always been a part of the problem. Having his lighter around, and using it... It made it easier. Plus, you know, smoking kills, and all that."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh, God, were you-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"<em>No</em>, no. Not really. The worst nights, I-I guess yeah, maybe. I considered it a lot more, but, you know, I had work the next day so I couldn't. Then... Peter showed me a trick to help out." The disapproval was clear on Sasha's face. "Oh, it's not that bad. I can show it to you, if you'd like." Sasha leaned back. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You're not going to vanish me into the lonely, right?" She was mostly joking, but there was a part of her that was somewhat serious. Martin chuckled. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No, no. Nothing like that. It's... Well, it's kind of difficult to explain. It feeds on your loneliness, but it doesn't just want to make you terrified all the time. It... snacks on your complacency. It wants you to stay alone, so it can make you alright with feeling like alone is what you should be. It makes you let go."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That doesn't sound like it helps."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No, it doesn't," Martin chuckled, staring off into nothing. "But it made missing him and my mum easier to bear. Here, take my hands." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I shouldn't," Sasha grimaced. Martin almost seemed a little disappointed at the rejection. "I don't even have a reason to need it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh, yeah, because you're doing so well." He sighed. "Sorry, that was mean. I know how hard all of this was for you especially. Considering... It's, still walking around, like some sick reminder. I don't think anyone can judge you for trying." Martin was right on that. Sasha was listening to any tape with Tim's voice eight days a week, just to keep going. She had to build up a tough exterior just to stay on her feet while she carried the archives, with the added strain of trying her damnedest to keep herself civil around Nottam. Her hands hesitantly wavered over Martin's. If anything, this could be good research into the Lonely. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The effect was almost instantaneous. She felt like her head was filling up with mist, and that mist was all she could focus on. Almost like the exhilarating display of power Michael Crew had showed her upon request. But this wasn't like terminal velocity. Sasha felt like she was floating and swaying. It was terrifying, but... It was calm. It was the calmest she'd felt in nearly two years. She tried to think about Nottam, but she found that she just couldn't care to get angry. She felt too separated from it to care properly. She felt completely alone, and that it was all she needed to be. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then it was over. Sasha snapped back into reality, the sudden shift in clarity almost knocking her off her feet, but Martin held her steady.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That was..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I know," he replied.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Horrible," she finished.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I know," he replied. "It feels worse in hindsight. Knowing you didn't care for a moment, even though you know you can and should. Like I said, it just makes things easier in the moment."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Have you tried this on Jon?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No. I mean, I <em>offered</em>. It actually helps with physical pain a bit, plus he's way more jumpy at night now. But he's very... Insistent. Wants to stay in control of his own feelings."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Well, he's got the right idea." They both shared a small laugh. "how<em> are</em> you feeling?" Martin's expression saddened. He clasped his hands together. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It's... hard to keep focused, I guess? I've been isolated for so long, having Jon around in the flat while I'm working is unnerving. I'm trying my best to help him, to take care of him, but-" Martin fumbled with his words, and eventually gave up trying to find them. But his meaning was clear. He was so far gone into the Lonely, that even caring about Jon was hard. "I know I should be happy. I <em>was</em> happy. When I first saw him. I don't think I had ever been so <em>relieved</em> to see an ambulance. But now that the initial shock's worn off?" Sasha placed a hand on his shoulder. "The scariest part is how alone I want to be after missing him for so long. Hell, after <em>loving</em> him for longer. We'd actually gotten pretty close working together, you know. He was rough around the edges, like, all the time, but you know... We became friends. It's silly, but, I was actually going to tell him how I felt after the Unknowing. But..." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I guess I understand. It's the power we've resigned to. After Tim... I needed something to focus on. And becoming more powerful, becoming an avatar, even though I know it's exactly what Elias wants, well, <em>it</em> was something."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Now that power is getting harder to control?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I <em>know</em> it's rude, but I can't help but <em>look</em> at people these days, just pedestrians on the street, or the employees in other departments. Every part of me wants to pull information out of them. Half the time it's all I can do to just close my eyes and stay quiet." Martin kept a comforting hand on her shoulder. They both knew how hard it was to stay afloat when powers beyond them were pulling their boats into the deep water. The silence was broken when a small spider crawled on that hand. They stared at it, and started laughing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Looks like dinner's ready," Martin mused, as the little spider began to sway in a dancing motion in his palm. "You don't have any other plans, right? You should join us."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You think he was eavesdropping?" Sasha smiled as they began to walk back into the apartment. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yeah, probably. I bet he wouldn't mind if you pulled some information out of him either. He'll talk to anyone about anything these days," he laughed. "Seriously, I'm thinking he should join a book club, or sign up for one of those video chat sites where you can talk to anyone." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Their evening was pleasant. The meal was delicious, and for a few hours, it felt like the simpler days again. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Statement of Eric Delano</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's been a long night of research, Sasha pulls out a statement she struggled to obtain earlier that day.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I brought more coffee,” Nottam walked through the door, setting the cardboard cup onto the table. It was late into the night now, and they were spending it looking into as many statements as they could. The history of the archives, of Elias, his predecessors and the building’s founder and financiers. Sasha James was deep into a box of older statements from the 19th century. It was disorganized and almost completely illegible, but since no one was trying to be H.P. Lovecraft, they were more believable.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, thanks,” she said, absentmindedly. Nottam went back to the board of notes and red string they had been working on these past months. They were almost onto something. Highlighted was what Sasha remembered of her conversation with Gerard Keay. She sighed heavily. “It just doesn’t make any sense.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The<em> rituals </em> . I get that they were stopped, but there are 14 different horrors according to Smirke, and they’ve existed for a long time. How have <em> none </em> of the rituals been successful?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It takes a long time to gather the right things for them. You saw the Unknowing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know, but what about before? You’d think the entities would have taken over in prehistoric times.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Would they have even existed then?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’d imagine the Hunt, the Slaughter and the Beholding would have, maybe the Lonely, maybe even the Web. But unless the dinosaurs were much more intelligent than we’ve ever thought they could be, and were able to end all the attempted rituals, I don’t see how our world managed to get as far as it did without one of them taking over.” Sasha took off her glasses, massaging the bridge of her nose. “And it’s not helping that I get a headache every time I try to think about it.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What, the Eye doesn’t want us to solve this?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I guess not? Which means it must be bad, and it knows that I wouldn’t like it. Maybe it’s not even the Eye, maybe Elias is messing with my head from his stupid cell. I wouldn't put that above him.” Another deep sigh. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe you should lay off the old letters for a bit. How about a Gertrude tape? You said you snatched one that you weren’t supposed to?” Sasha pulled out a tape she’d found that afternoon from her desk. She couldn’t seem to place it down on the table. Her brows furrowed, her hand shook. Noticing this, Nottam took the tape from her, and placed it on the table for her. She let out a sigh of relief, as though she was forced to hold her breath. “I guess I’ll press play too?”</p>
<p>After a brief pause, “No, I can manage,” she replied. And after a lot of hesitation, she was able to press play on the tape. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A sharp sigh from Gertrude Robinson filled the room. “<em>Right. No use putting it off further.” </em>Rustling papers.<em> “When he opened his eyes, he saw nothing, but he heard her breathing, slow and steady and focused, and he immediately knew that she was finally going to-</em>" Gertrude slightly stumbled in her words. Possibly from the shock of what was on that page.<em> "-kill him. When the garden shears plunged into his chest, he was surprised by how little actual pain there was- just the sudden feeling of moisture on his chest and the realization that his body was growing weak, fading away. </em></p>
<p><em> He wished she would say she was sorry she was doing this, that she loved him, that she would miss him. But he knew better, and his final thought was a gentle sadness at how little he was surprised </em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And so the Archivist and the creature listened to the recording very carefully. Both took their own notes. Eric Delano, his statement, his decisions, his fate. One more piece of the puzzle fell into place. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Holy <em> shit </em>,” was all Nottam could say after the tape turned off. Sasha couldn’t say anything. She cupped her nose and mouth with her hands, and closed her eyes. Another long pause, save for Nottam shuffling around the room. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What are you doing?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Coffee isn’t gonna cut it, I’m getting us a real drink.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hm. Glasses are in the file cabinet next to the door, top shelf.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know, and I hid the scotch with the remaining CO2 canisters.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know. Why?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Because you hid the cups,” it joked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Because you kept taking my alcohol,” she retorted, opening her eyes to see it place the glasses and the half-empty bottle of scotch on the table. She gladly poured her own cup, and slammed it down just as quickly. “<em> Christ </em>!” She yelled, covering her face with one hand as she held the other out to request another round. “I can't believe it was this easy! This whole time! Fuck! What the <em>hell</em> am I going to do?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you going to go through with it?” Nottam asked, complying. “It sounds like fun, and I’ll help, but it seems kind of…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Drastic? Insane? Yeah.” Sasha drank this cup more mindfully. “I don’t know. If I found out about this a year ago, maybe I would. Maybe I could. But I think I’m in too deep to even be physically capable of blinding myself.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Like I said, I’ll do it myself if you want.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“... No,” she sighed. “No, I don’t think I should. We’re right in the middle of something, and I feel like if I stop now, something bad’s going to happen. Plus, Martin’s working hard with Peter on the Extinction case, Basira’s doing her best to carry the archives more than she should have to, and Jon’s working with Daisy tracking down Trevor and Julia.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I still think you should have let me kill them earlier. I could have taken his face! Get out of the old Not-Tim sack.” Sasha glared daggers at it. “Right, right. Don’t mention the body, got it.” Static rose around the room. “... What are you doing? Sasha?” Sasha gasped.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That damned table! God, I should have seen it sooner! No, wait, I couldn’t!” The static continued. “You shredded the Dekker statement!”</p>
<p><br/>“Hey, get out of my head! I was gonna tell you that myself!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You prick!” She punched Nottam in the arm as the static died down. “And it’s <em> Archivist </em> to you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em> Ow </em> . ... Are you <em> done </em>?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“... Yeah,” she sighed. “I ought to keep you here forever. Or give you to Helen. She might like the redecorating.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ha ha, very funny. Even if you did break the table, I’m not leaving. I think I have just as much at stake here as you do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How? Isn’t the apocalypse the dream life for all of you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Please, like I’d let those other cultists take control of the world. The Spiral? Maybe, feels similar enough to let it pass, but if the world’s gonna go crazy, I want it to be under the Stranger’s rule.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You pulled the trigger on your own ritual.”<br/><br/></p>
<p>“As I’ve made very clear already, it was because of this, which I thought might have been more important.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is it? Are you feeling fulfilled?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I feel like a real Nancy Drew,” it joked. Sasha almost laughed. It was most definitely the alcohol. “Should we pack it up for the night? Keep drinking?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, what the hell.” The two started stacking up all the statements again. “It’ll give me time to think about what I’ll tell the others. I reckon Jon already knows.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why’s that?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There’s a spider next to the bottle,” Sasha nodded. Sure enough, there was indeed a spider. Nottam grimaced. “His are always tiny. I think they’re called Money Spiders? Very small, and they like damp vegetation, so Jon’s been growing a windowsill garden for them.” The little thing danced in confirmation, and Sasha giggled. “Hello, Jon.” Suddenly, Sasha felt dizzy. The little spider crawled onto her hand. “I’m alright. I don’t think the Beholding wants me to tell you what I know. Do that little dance again if you heard the tapes.” It confirmed. “Good. Could you tell Martin for me? In the morning, of course.” The little spider jumped and hurried away. “I think that was a yes.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Archivist, I hope you know how hilarious it is to see you talk to spiders,” Nottam grinned. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh hush, you. Drink more,” Sasha smiled.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The Decisions of Jonathan Sims and Melanie King</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After learning what needs to be done to quit, Melanie and Jon come to Sasha with their decision.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Sasha?” The Archivist’s thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Melanie and Jon walked in together. They both looked rather nervous, but Melanie moreso. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Melanie, Jon. How are you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, I think,” Melanie started. “N-no, no yeah. I am good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You sound like you’ve made your decision.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have. We have. Uh… Thanks, by the way. For telling me. It didn’t look easy for you.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it wasn’t,” Sasha said wryly. “I don’t think </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span> wants to lose people, but you of all people deserved that option.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Melanie, it’s alright. I know it’s a big ask. I’m sure if we keep looking, then another way will show-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! No, no, you’re wrong. I’m doing it. I’m.. We’re going through with it. We’re quitting.” Sasha felt stunned. Maybe it was the Beholding making her feel unhappy for them. She looked to Jon, who nodded. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure? Are you both sure? I mean, it’s only been a week-” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sasha.” Jon interrupted. “We’re sure. We actually decided two days ago. We’ve spent this long making the proper arrangements. I hope the premeditation is comforting.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not really. I-” Sasha sighed. “Sorry. I’m just worried for you both. I’m happy you’re ending this on your own terms, really. If you don’t mind me asking, what will you be doing?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not a compulsion, is it?” Melanie leaned back, half-joking. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Sasha chuckled. “I’ve been getting better at blocking the eye, only tell me what you want to.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Cool. I’m staying with Gerogie. We’ve talked a lot about it, but she was okay with it in the end. I haven’t told my therapist, I know she’s going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>pissed</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Melanie’s voice was shaky. “But I’m glad I’m not doing it alone.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course. And you, Jon? I imagine you had a disagreement about this with Martin?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, definitely,” Jon smiled apologetically for him. “But I’ve made up my mind, and I convinced him in the end. There’ll be more spiders in the relationship, seeing as they’ll be the only things I can see through after, but I’m sure we’ll be okay.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not joining you, then.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Jon shook his head. “I don’t know what he’s doing with Peter regarding the Extinction, but he’s assured me it’s too important to stop now, and I trust him.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right. What is your reason for this? I get Melanie, but you’ve been here since the start, and you’ve never even brought up the idea of quitting before. As much as you’ve complained, you seemed to love it here.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“In a different scenario, I’d agree with you. This place has been like a second home to me for a long time. And I like to think of you all as a family.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>sap</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Melanie joked. “We would have gotten along so much better if you said that a year ago.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I was too much of an ass to see it myself,” he shook his head. “But Sasha, I am quitting because I cannot work with you under its watch. Under Elias’ watch. I’ll still be able to help, I might even be ready to go in a few days. But if I help you anymore with what you’re working on, then it can’t be under the institute. We’ve already left our resignations on Peter’s desk.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It was actually really satisfying,” Melanie joined. “But I’ve never even met the man, he probably doesn't care about my resignation. I only wish it was Elias. He would have </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> this.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If he’s watching right now, I’m sure he already does,” Sasha smiled. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I was able to write quite a letter of my own to Peter. He manipulated my boyfriend for months while I was gone, I think that’s quite deserving of a strongly-worded resignation,” Jon smiled, extremely proud of himself. The others laughed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right… How are you going to do it?” Jon took two things from the pockets in his cardigan. A small vial, and an eye dropper. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it took some searching, but I found the right acid and an eye dropper.” Melanie nodded along, taking a deep breath. She was still shaking. “It should leave minimal scarring, but it’ll do the trick. We should hurry now, though.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll miss you,” Sasha said. They both smiled, sad. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll still be here, unofficially,” Jon reassured. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And I’ll miss you. Not this place, but, you, definitely,” Melanie confirmed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything I can do to help?” Sasha smiled, saddened. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jon said as he opened the door. “When the screaming starts, could you call an ambulance?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.” Melanie left the room. “Jon? Can I ask you one more thing?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure. What’s on your mind?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know that severing your connection to the Beholding will more or less solidify your connection to the Web.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure this isn’t the Web manipulating you to make this decision?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I… Don’t think that’s how it works anymore. I am more of the Web than I was while in the Buried. I am doing my best to balance feeding it and keeping myself healthy, but at this point, I’m already on my way to being a full-fledged avatar. For a being bent on influence and control, it would be a little silly if I was limited in mine. I think it’s grateful I’m severing my connection.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, then if that’s the case, what is this decision to you? Is it really to get out of the Beholding’s watch? Or is this more to do with feeding the Web?” Jon thought for a moment, and smiled. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not as scared as I know I ought to be, so I’m inclined to think it’s a little bit of both. I guess it’s down to how much I regret it later. Which probably won’t be much. Goodbye, Sasha. It was nice to be your assistant.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see you around, Jon.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jon left the door open on his way out. Ten minutes later, the screaming started, and Sasha got out her phone. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Recovery (Part 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sasha visits Melanie King in recovery.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Knocking lead to Georgie Barker opening the door for Sasha. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sasha, hey! Woah, you’re carrying something big!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Georgie! And yeah, it’s cookies. I’ve gotten into baking.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that’s probably healthier than whatever you were doing to cope with before. Come in! Come in.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve got a lovely place,” Sasha remarked, entering the flat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sasha? Is that you?” Melanie slowly came through the bedroom doorway, holding The Admiral. Other than the bandages on her eyes, and her caution walking, she seemed perfectly fine.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s me,” Sasha smiled. Melanie smiled too. “I brought cookies! Homemade. You don’t have any nut allergies, do you?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m alright. But that sounds cool! I didn’t know you baked,” she teased. Georgie took the container of fresh cookies, placing them on a table as she guided the two of them to the sofa. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll make some tea,” she said, kissing Melanie on the cheek. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you doing? You look a lot better.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I… Feel a lot better, actually. I’m not scared anymore. I never really noticed it before, but the Eye thing, it kind of gives you this low terror all the time, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’d be able to notice,” Sasha said sympathetically. She noticed the books of braille strewn across the table. “I see you’re already picking up a new language.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup. It’s actually not as hard as I thought it’d be.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Interesting!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I miss looking at things, though. Mostly Georgie. Her pretty face is seared into my heart, though.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m going to miss you not knowing how pretty you are,” Georgie said, coming back in from the kitchen, giving Melanie another kiss. Sasha was gushing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You two are so sweet.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Thanks,” they both replied. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you got anyone?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Sasha replied. “Everyone’s already taken, unfortunately.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh come on, there has to be someone in the institute. No fancy guys or gals working in IT? Marketing? HR?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, no one in the other departments wants to look the Archives in the eye.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s right,” Melanie joined. “I’m not sure if it was me, or the Slaughter, but I had to go to the company party, and everyone was uncomfortable once we showed up.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard someone asked Martin if he was being held hostage.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, they aren’t wrong,” they all laughed. “How’d he react to that? Basira had to get me out of there because I “got too drunk” and “poured champagne on some twink”.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you remember doing that?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Melanie chuckled. “I blacked out early.” Giggling from the other girls. “What? Company parties are meant to be the place you get too wasted from. I’ve held that opinion since college, by the way.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, yes, of course. I don’t remember it much, but I think Martin just tried to play it off. Oh, you should have seen the one we had to go to before you showed up. Regular old anniversary party with an auction hosted by the Fairchild’s, Jon got drunk and into a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> heated argument with absolutely no one. He was literally yelling at anyone who would listen, and that was Tim, who had to calm him down, and the wall.” Melanie and Georgie burst into laughter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That definitely sounds like him! What was he even going on about?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I honestly can’t tell you, I think he was arguing about 30 different things at once. Martin took him out to go lie down when he nearly started crying about spiders.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>fantastic</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Melanie laughed. “How is he, by the way? He hasn’t called.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Heee’s in Norway right now,” Sasha cringed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up, seriously? It hasn’t even been a week,” Georgie stated, shocked. He used to overreact at every injury he got, there’s no way he’s already back on his feet.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I believe it,” Melanie said quietly. “When we were… I went first, so after the fact, I couldn’t pay attention to much other than the pain, but… It took him a </span>
  <em>
    <span>while</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> do it, but it just wasn’t working. I think he ended up ditching the acid for something else? It sounded like a stapler, I-I…” Georgie put a hand  on her shoulder, as her breath shook and she calmed herself down. “Well, it worked in the end, so I’m happy for him. What’s in Norway?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhm…. A lead? A ritual? He and Basira went together, it was something about the Dark, but they didn’t bother telling me much about it before leaving, except for the fact that they were actually planning on leaving earlier, and only postponed it because Jon-... But that’s enough about work. I don’t want to be “The Archivist” here.” They all agreed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span>“Right, how about those cookies? They smell </span>
  <em>
    <span>great</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Melanie said excitedly. Georige went to grab them, as Melanie started to talk about all the podcasts and audiobooks she’s been binging with the spare time on her hands. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The Last Breath of Sasha James</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sasha James finds out the truth from her predecessor. Jonah Magnus has a gun. Nottam grieves, two hunters pay the price, and the Archivist is born.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh my God…” She had found it. She had listened to it. She had digested it. This must have been the second-last tape of Gertrude Robinson. Before Elias… Before <em> Jonah Magnus </em> killed her. The tape left for Sasha. She was reeling. There weren't enough details. Elias was Jonah Magnus, Jonah Magus was every predecessor before. The world was on her shoulders? What does that mean? How much of Jonah’s plan did Sasha contribute to? <em> What ritual </em>? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The door opened. Sasha looked at who walked through it with horror. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“E-Elias,” she said, unable to hide the shaking in her voice. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hello, Archivist.” Jonah Magnus stepped through. The face of Elias Bouchard was clean, smug, his hair slicked back and proper, his clothes black, gold accented, and ironed. As if he’d never spent a day in prison. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“H-How did you get in here?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not allowed in my own institute?” Silence. He rolled his eyes. “Peter let me in, Archivist. Don’t ask me how I go out of jail next, we have much to discuss.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you mean by that?” Elias smirked. And from behind him, he pulled out a shotgun.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not sure how you found that tape. I know you had help, but I thought I was better at hiding things. Now I have to speed everything up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wh-what, do I know too much now?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ding ding!” He cocked the gun, and for a moment, looked apologetic. “Now, Archivist. Sasha, if you will. I know how this looks. But believe me, this is in your best interest. When you wake up, you’re going to be a whole new Archivist.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, I won’t do anything you say anymore!-” </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Bang </em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The impact didn’t do much. Maybe Sasha was just that strong. She looked down at her own chest, and the blood seeping from the holes. She couldn’t breathe. She only heard Jonah </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reload.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Bang </em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She fell back down into her chair. She was shocked at how much less this hurt than she thought it would. She felt heavy. Her sight faded as she watched Jonah</p>
<p>Reload.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Bang </em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sasha James was already dead by the time the third shot hit her chest. Jonah looked unimpressed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hm. Maybe Gertrude was just stronger. I hope to see you when you wake up. Don’t worry, I’ve called Mr. Banks to help you through this, but I get the suspicion you might not need his help.” Jonah shifted the Archivist’s body to slump over her desk, laying her head down on her now crossed arms. He closed her eyes. “There, now the others will be in for a treat! I’m sure Nottam will cause a rampage. He likes you very much, I’m afraid. Now, if I may, I have someone I need to humiliate.” Jonah left the way he came. It was only a few minutes later when Nottam barged through the door. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sasha! It’s those hunters, they’re- Are you<em> sleeping </em> ?” It stormed over, grabbing her by the shoulder, and pushing her so she’d lean back in her chair. “ <em> Wake u </em>-” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It couldn’t finish it’s words. It felt it’s tongue go limp as the sounds trailed out of it’s throat, never completing. If the NotThem had anything resembling a heart, it would have disintegrated. Then and there.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>If anything human was left in the archives, it would have been afraid to hear the shriek coming from this thing. Long. Painful. Pure anguish. Pure rage. It grew three sizes, stretching out to it’s true form, one that had too many joints. However, as far as it knew, it’s target was not Elias Bouchard. It was the hunters he had seen just a minute earlier. It didn’t let it’s scream fade as it broke down the door, pushing through running employees, horrified at its existence. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It found them at the institute’s main entrance with Jon, who was having his skull beaten in far too easily by the hunter who called himself Trevor. Basira was trying to steady herself as her shoulder bled of a gunshot. His ward, Julia, who had Daisy in a headlock, bearing fangs, dropped her concentration at the sight of it. Just as she started screaming, Daisy got out of her hold, and shot her in the throat just as quickly. As Trevor turned around to see the fate of the girl, Nottam thrust it’s long, sharp fingers through his body. Three went through his torso, while the fourth tore through his leg. It’s fingers ripped through the side of his body as it flung Trevor down the hall, employees screaming as the corpse flew by them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shit…” Daisy said, astonished. “Are you… Crying?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sasha…” Even it’s quiet voice was monstrous. “Sasha…” It sat down as Jon slowly struggled to his feet. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nottam, what happened?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You weren’t looking? I thought you had spiders in every inch of the institute?” Daisy scolded. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sorry Daisy, but as you could see, a crazy huntsman was beating the blunt end of his barrel <em> into my fucking brain </em>! Now Nottam, what happened to- Oh my god.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As the others reeled and grieved over the information, they didn’t notice the handsome man walk calmly through the archives, and into the broken office of the Archivist. He pulled out the extra chair in the room, and sat across from the Archivist’s corpse. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Right. God, this is awkward. I’m sorry, Sasha. I hope that’s alright, by the way. “Archivist” just feels too formal, you know? Wow, this sucks. I don’t even know how Elias got my number, but I’m really sorry about what happened to you. I kinda knew it was going to happen, though. Uh…” He paused, and chuckled. “It’s too bad I can’t give you my statement, huh? Your friends are figuring out that those hunters weren’t the ones that shot you, and I’d rather not be here for them to assume it was me. So I guess it’s the short version. Hopefully it’ll energize you a little. Like a… An appetizer. Okay, here we go.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hi. I’m Oliver Banks, my statements have me go by Antonio Blake, but to be honest, neither names really mean anything to me anymore. I serve the End, have been for over 10 years now, I guess. I don’t know how Elias got my number, but he seemed to think this was… Pretty important. I don’t even know why I came here. I’m sure you can decide for  yourself.” He stood up, walked over to her side, and leaned in to talk quietly in her ear. “We both know you’re no longer human enough to die, but you can’t escape him. And I know you have too much on your plate to let him take you right now. So please, make your decision quickly.” Oliver Banks made his way out the door. “Goodbye, Archivist.” And just as quietly as he came in, he left. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She didn’t expect the brink of death to be so colourful. She expected the End to go hand-in-hand with the Dark. But she could see so many things, it was like a blur. She could see Daisy, Basira, and Nottam at the front. She could feel them mourning. She could see Jon work his way through the tunnels with an army of tiny spiders slipping past the cracks to find more routes. She could feel him worrying about Martin. She couldn’t see Martin. Nor Peter or Elias. She could feel them though. Elias was prideful, Martin was angry, Peter was embarrassed. She could see everyone else in the institute trying to regain their bearings after the attack and brutal murders of the hunters who came in so unannounced. She felt the voice of Oliver Banks kiss her ear. Such a smooth voice he had. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was right. There was still so much she had to do. She couldn’t die. Not yet. She felt such a heavy weight on top of her. She knew in her heart it was a weight she was meant to carry to the end. But she knew that now, it was a weight she’d have to let slip off her shoulders if she was going to be able to finish what she’d started. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then, she opened her eyes, and she could breathe again. She felt <em> new </em> . She felt <em> powerful </em>. She felt like an <em>Archivist</em>.</p>
<p>And she felt <em> angry </em> . She tore off her bloody, ruined shirt. She had just bought the thing, and Jonah Magnus shot holes through it. She wanted to kill him. A part of her felt like she could. Like she was powerful enough to hold up the archives, and that he didn’t need to parade himself around like the lifeline of its employees. Though when she tried thinking about it, she found herself starting to stumble. No, if there was anyone who <em> could </em> kill Jonah Magnus, it couldn’t be someone connected to the Beholding. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She walked through the halls, grabbing the axe she had bought a few weeks after the Unknowing. It didn’t do much then except make her feel secure, but it was a damn good axe. She ignored the confused and scared institute employees as she made the trip down to Artifact Storage. A hallway she unfortunately knew all too well before she was “promoted”. She opened the doors, and found her way to that stupid fucking table. She took one last look at it’s enchanting design, and lifted the axe over her head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nottam? This is a request from the Archivist. Give those pieces of shit Hell for me, would you?” She yelled out to the world, swinging down, over and over again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Martin's Decision</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Martin makes his choice.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“No.” The knife clattered to the floor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Martin, what are you doing?” Peter scowled. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m saying no. Game over.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This isn’t time for petulance, there are bigger things at stake-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, I think that was the problem. You made the stakes too high. Made all the little things that didn’t add up more exaggerated. And this is it? This is what you’ve been working for?” Elias chuckled in the background. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The Extinction is still out there!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m sure it is! But this isn’t about the Extinction.” Martin pointed to Elias. “It’s about him. You just wanted to get one up on him. Whatever it is, and don’t think I haven’t overheard you excited about your </span>
  <em>
    <span>bet</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Do either of you want to explain what that was, or do I have to wait for that too?” The two men stayed silent. “Right. Well I might not know exactly what’s going on, but I don’t want a part of it anymore. I’m not killing him, even if I really want to.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But you said-” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Peter. I was mostly saying what you wanted to hear.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I see,” Peter huffed. He turned to Elias, who was grinning smugly. “Is this you, then?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hardly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not him!” Martin yelled. “It’s not anybody! It’s just me. Always has been. When I… When I first came to you, I thought I’d lost everything. Jon was gone, my mother was dead, the job I’d put everything into turned out to be spreading evil, and I… It was so hard to manage all of that, I didn’t care what happened to me. I couldn’t even tell myself it was to protect the others. As messed as this sounds, I was angry at everyone else for surviving. I just thought becoming a part of the Lonely was a good way to get myself killed.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He let out a wry laugh. “But then, Jon came back. The man I only had a few tapes and a picture of to remember by was back, and he was</span>
  <em>
    <span> okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So I decided to keep him safe, I needed to keep your attention away from him. I know you hated that I took time off for him, so I figured you must not have been pleased to see him return. So I doubled down on my acting and lying. Kept your focus on me and the Extinction. But God, the Extinction. You really had me there at the start. A brand new entity, bent on destroying the world, something that had to be stopped. Really, I believed you. But then you tried to make me the hero. The protagonist, the chosen one. And Peter, that was never me. I have never been in control of anything. But I was in too deep already, you’d changed me too much for me to really turn back.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re still pledged to the Lonely, though. You serve it now, just as much as I do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, thanks, you really worked your magic there. But I’m still not doing what you want. You don’t speak for the Lonely, just yourself.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I warned you, Peter,” Elias smiled. Peter got even more upset. He took off his cap, clenching it in his fist. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No. No! This isn’t fair - do you have any idea what you’ve done? You knew, he must realize -” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jonah had nothing to do with it,” Martin interrupted. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, that’s not - you can’t -”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve lost, Peter, admit it. He played you like a…” Jonah smiled gleefully.  “Like a… cheap whistle.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No! Shut up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Peter.” Peter huffed and gruffed. He threw his cap onto the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>won</span>
  </em>
  <span>,</span>
  <em>
    <span> Jonah</span>
  </em>
  <span>. What do you want?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm, nothing, actually. Not anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Jonah walked over, picking up Peter’s cap, dusting it off and placing it back on his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I won a long time ago, I just wanted to see this through. I guess you could say I… had a crawling kind of feeling to see this through.” Jonah traced Peter’s lapel with his finger. “I already have everything I need.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, excuse me?” Martin chimed in. “Do either of you want to tell me what’s-” Peter waved his hand as mist enveloped Martin, and soon he disappeared.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That wasn’t necessary,” Jonah said. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t care,” Peter replied with another grouchy huff. “What now?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now… We wait. The Archivist’s already woken up. It’s funny, Martin’s going to feel so ridiculous knowing the part he accidentally played in our victory.” Jonah slid his hands to Peter’s waist. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Pff. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Your</span>
  </em>
  <span> victory.” Peter tilted Jonah’s chin up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Our </span>
  </em>
  <span>victory. The new world will be yours as well, I’ll just be watching,” Jonah whispered, closing his eyes as Peter leaned down. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their would-be kissed was interrupted by a tap on Peter’s shoulder. Turning around, Peter was met with a right good hook to the face. Toppling over, Peter landed on the floor, as he and a shocked Jonah (who was distracted by the moment of intimacy) looked at a newly returned, incredibly pissed off Martin K. Blackwood. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s for </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you stupid sore-losing asshole!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>How</span>
  </em>
  <span> did you-” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What, get out of the Lonely? Your little beach prison? Really Peter, did you actually think I wasn’t powerful enough to get out on my own?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If you wanted me in there, you should have chosen a nicer location! Now what the hell are you two talking about!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Martin.” Jonah said warily. “I know you’re upset, but I think it’s about time you leave.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sasha will give you all the information you need. I think you should spend the time you have left with Jon.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that a threat?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Only if you interpret it to be,” Jonah smiled. “Please, it’s been quite a long day, I just got out of prison. I’d like to not have to force you out.” Martin thought for a moment, and as the mist gathered around him, he stormed out the way he came. Jonah offered Peter a hand up. “Did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>seriously</span>
  </em>
  <span> not think he was powerful enough to do that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, it took me years to get this powerful. How was </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> supposed to know he could do that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> trained him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I isolated him and showed him a couple of my tricks, that’s not training.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Suit yourself,” Elias huffed, clapping his hands together and straightening his tie. “Better get to work, then. First thing on the agenda, there’s a creature angry with me for killing its Archivist, and said Archivist just freed it from its prison.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. A Brief Intermission</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hiding out in a safe house.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Right, well, I’m off,” Daisy said casually. “Don’t ruin my house. I definitely mean you, Nottam.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am,” it replied, lounging on the couch and not even looking at her. Sasha rolled her eyes at it, and tuned back to Daisy with a smile. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll make sure to keep it clean. Thanks again, Daisy.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, we all have to be on the run at some point in our lives. Can't leave a friend hanging when it's their turn.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you going to be okay?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she shrugged. “My family owns more secret property elsewhere. It’s pretty shitty in normal circumstances, but right now it’s convenient.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re <em>okay?</em> I know you quit the force. I know it was your main source of... Food.” Daisy hummed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I probably won't be okay. But I’m glad I quit. There’s too many rules when it comes to all that. I know that isn’t the best reason to quit, but I’d rather chase around forest animals in a peaceful forest than people in the big city. But who knows? It might even prefer it if I don’t have a job that requires a kill. Or an end. Just something to chase might be enough for it.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, probably.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, see you around. Glad to see you back on your feet.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Glad to be back. See you around, Daisy.” Sasha and Daisy hugged before the latter left to her car. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think she’s more fun bloodthirsty,” Nottam teased once Sasha closed the door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh hush. She’s doing her best. Unlike the Beholding, there’s not much you can do to “quit” serving the other entities. It’s this, or she starves.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah, whatever. Speaking of starving, are you okay?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, you saw me read a statement just before Daisy got here.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not what I mean, Archivist.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do tell me what you mean then,” she joked, sitting on the couch opposite to it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>died</span>
  </em>
  <span> a few days ago.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And? I’m all better, Nottam.” It glared at her, concerned. She rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, you know I’m okay. I’m even better than okay. I don’t even need my glasses anymore.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And what did you trade to be okay?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What, are you worried that I’m not human anymore? If Helen’s taught me anything, it’s that I’m no less Sasha James than she is Helen Richardson, even after everything. I’ve been on the path to monsterhood since I became head archivist, you can’t tell me you’re worried for my sake now.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just saying….” It paused. “No, I don’t know what I’m saying. I just don’t get why you </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to die. Why’d Eli- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jonah</span>
  </em>
  <span>, even do that?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Which is what we’ll be spending our time away from the Archives finding out. Now that police have finally shut it down, they’re looking for Daisy, who killed a woman, and we’re running from Jonah, who probably wants me to complete whatever master plan Gertrude confirmed he had.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So… Does that mean we’re still allies?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Unless you want to leave. I’ll let Daisy know to start hunting you down, but I’ll let you go if you want.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“... Great! Still allies, then.” Sasha nodded. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. The Eye Opens</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Statement of Jonah Magnus, regarding Sasha James, the Archivist.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sasha had tried to pull herself away from the statement, from Jonah’s grasp, but the attempt left her in agony. She couldn’t believe what she was reading. She’d known Jonah was planning something, something Gertrude had warned her to look out for, but… </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Here the man was, monologuing about a plan that would destroy the</span>
  <em>
    <span> world</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and there was only </span>
  <em>
    <span>glee</span>
  </em>
  <span> to his words. It was sickening. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I do have to congratulate you, Sasha. I wasn’t sure how long I was going to be able to string you along. I’m not sure what had come over me to hire you for the position. After all, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gertrude’s recommendation, and anyone capable enough to impress that woman should have been nothing but a threat in my eyes. Furthermore, Jonathan was far more circumstantially convenient to me, having already been marked by the Web. I was almost inclined to believe it was a gift from the Spider itself. And he was certainly receptable enough to the Beholding. Perhaps if I had chosen him, my plan would have been much easier to complete. But, he served well enough as an assistant, and you were an excellent Archivist in the end. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll admit, it wasn’t easy. Though you were already contracted to the Beholding, securing your mark, you were one less than Jonathan would have been, and you were far sharper in skill. I had to be extremely cautious with you. So, when Jane Prentiss began secretly infesting the Archives, it wasn’t so much of a test of your capability to survive encounters, as it was an analysis of that capability to decide my plans for you. Rest assured, I had my hand on the gas from the start, eagerly waiting to see how well you adapted with the few resources at your disposal. And well you did, Sasha. I only decided to pull the lever once the worms were already inside of you. It was important that you felt that fear all the way to your bones. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Discovering the infiltration of one of the Stranger’s minions in the aftermath of the attack was a pleasant surprise. Considering your close connection with Tim, I knew it was a matter of time before it marked you one way or another. Though given the advent of the Unknowing, I needn’t have bothered. The complications however, were quite interesting to me. In hindsight, I wonder if it was my own personal recruitment of the NotThem that robbed you of the opportunity to be marked by the End, or if it was the emotional fault of the NotThem for getting too close to you itself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your encounter with the Distortion early on was a stroke of luck for us both, and when it happened, I knew I had to send Micahel back your way. So I convinced one of his victims to give a statement. Poor Helen.  I actually had to put her in a taxi myself, she was getting so lost in those narrow London side streets. It worked, though. And, considering you ran in to fail to find her yourself, well, you were marked well enough. However, I needed you in the institute, so I ought to be thanking you for giving me the chance to… Mend a few broken bones with Michael and his distaste for Gertrude. Enough to get him to listen to me every now and then. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jurgen Leitner was a complication I hadn’t predicted. While I suspected Gertrude had help in her last years, I wasn’t sure how much she would have told him, and he had access to powers that would make my life so much more complicated. I… can’t pretend it wasn’t a rash move to make. But, getting you all to lie to the police did secure the continued interest of Hunter Alice Tonner. She made her mark on you happily enough.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Melanie King however, was not planned. I suspected she would be an interesting addition to the institute, given her recurring visits and your good relationship with her, but once she went on her Slaughter adventure, I knew I needed to secure her a position. It’s amazing how close you were, and how she was still able to land her mark. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I was surprised by your change of personality after the Unknowing. I knew the NotThem would eventually reveal itself, but I didn’t expect how much that and the fate of Tim would have affected you. With the addition of Jon’s presumed death and Martin’s inability to cope, I was worried you wouldn’t have recovered, that I would have to find some way to motivate you. But lo and behold, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fire</span>
  </em>
  <span> that birthed in you. Ironically enough, it shared a likeness to Gertrude. But it was far more </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span> than her cold demeanor. Naturally, it was a problem for me. With the rather strange alliance between you and the NotThem, unrestrained by the Beholding, I was rather worried you would find out more than I could hide from you. Thankfully, after I sweetened the pot with Martin, Peter was willing enough to help keep you at a safer distance. While you performed well enough on your trips to America and Beijing, your willingness to jump into the fray after the Unknowing made securing marks for you </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> easier. I have Basira to thank for taking the leads from me to you. Jude Perry, Michael Crew, Maxwell Rayner. I suspect before the Unknowing, you would have been too polite to get them to mark you. But luckily, I didn’t have to worry about that anymore. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The Flesh was more orchestrated, I invited Jared Hopworth to the institute. I was worried you wouldn’t have fared well against him, but seeing as you came out, I suppose that counted as a mark. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With the disappearance of Jon, I suspected the Coffin would turn up again some time after the Unknowing. I had my doubts for you, Sasha. As powerful as you were becoming, even if you were to be as powerful as Gertrude, it would have been impossible to go through the Buried in your state. I made sure to get rid of any… </span>
  <em>
    <span>restraining </span>
  </em>
  <span>factors, before your journey, but even I was worried at this point. I’m proud you proved my doubts unnecessary. And then a</span>
  <em>
    <span> miracle </span>
  </em>
  <span>happened. I wonder if it was the Web aiding me behind the scenes, but its transformation of Jonathan during those months and the months after was the best surprise I’d been given. He marked you easily enough, innocuous enough. I knew he wanted to keep a grip on you as well, suspecting something was amiss in the Archives. Him severing his connection with the Beholding completely was a sad day, but I am impressed with his foresight in that situation. You probably won’t see his Webs around you until he reveals them himself. Or you might. This new world brings so many possibilities, I expect it’ll give us power neither of us could have expected to gain. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Second to last, I might even say the hardest to secure for you was the Lonely. The original plan was for Peter to rope Martin into the picture, and your friendship with him would lure you into the Lonely’s clutches. But then, and I honestly laugh every time, you marked </span>
  <em>
    <span>yourself</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Poor Martin. I wonder if knowing the part he played in this will break him. I’ll make sure to let him Know myself after the change. Keep an Eye on him, won’t you? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Finally, the End. I wish it could have gone down more smoothly, I really did. But I had a busy day, and you had finally found the tape Gertrude left for you. Fortunately, Oliver Banks was willing enough to lend his assistance. I was honestly worried it wasn’t going to work. The End is tricky like that. If you weren’t powerful enough, you’d just die. Too powerful, and you’d have seen it coming and avoided it. Lucky for me, Gertrude kept you in your seat long enough for me to arrive. I hope you find it as poetic as I did that your first and last mark were given to you by me.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And there you have it. You are You are prepared. You are ready. You are marked. The power of the Ceaseless Watcher flows through you, and the time of our victory is here. Don’t worry, Jon. You’ll get used to it here, in the world that we have made. Now. Repeat after me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As the Archivist read the incantation, desperately trying to pull away but still unable, tears flowing freely as she regurgitated the horrors, dense static filled the air. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You who watch and know and understand none. You who listen and hear and will not comprehend. You who wait and wait and drink in all that is not yours by right.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Come to us in your</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em> wholeness</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Come to us in your</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em> perfection</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bring all that is fear and all that is terror and all that is the awful dread that crawls and chokes and blinds and falls and twists and leaves and hides and weaves and burns and hunts and rips and leads and </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>dies!</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Come to us.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <b>
    <em>I – OPEN – THE DOOR!</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
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